


Just Kinda Tired

by graphiteonwhite



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Self-Hatred, i heckin guess, possibly ooc bc i havent played mm in a long time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-11-19 06:16:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11307426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graphiteonwhite/pseuds/graphiteonwhite
Summary: Mirrors. Your one weakness.You can never help but scrutinize every detail of yourself in front of them. To people like Zen, this means being narcissistic. To you, it simply means self-hate bubbling just under your skin.





	Just Kinda Tired

**Author's Note:**

> this was a request from a good friend so i Tried ... and ended up with 2k words so here u go. didnt bother to check for typos either so

 Mirrors. Your one weakness.

 

 You can never help but scrutinize every detail of yourself in front of them. To people like Zen, this means being narcissistic. To you, it simply means self-hate bubbling just under your skin.

 

 From what you can tell, Zen hasn't once noticed your daily self-hate session.

 

 It's not that he doesn't pay adequate attention to you—in fact, sometimes he showers you with  _ too much _ attention. As a somewhat new couple, the two of you are still embarrassingly sweet to each other, both in public and in private. Fortunately (or, probably, unfortunately), that also means he hasn't had too much time to realize what it is you're thinking when you look at yourself. Maybe it’s because he only ever thinks positive things when he looks at his own reflection, so he assumes that you're admiring yourself just as he would. But that couldn't be further from the truth.

 

 Sometimes you consider telling him. Maybe he could help. Zen seems to have the art of self-love down pat, after all. But, even if it's irrational, you have one thought creeping in the back of your mind. 

 

 What if he agrees?

 

 You know you shouldn't think that, because Zen adores telling you all about how handsome you are and how much he loves you. But, well, it isn't  _ that _ inconceivable of a possibility that he actually hates you. Maybe it was out of pity that he started dating you in the first place. Maybe he regrets his decision to do so every day because of how ugly you are, and maybe he thinks every day about how much he wants to break up with you because he can't stand being seen next to you in public, and  _ maybe _ —

 

 “Good morning,” you hear from your right as you exit the bathroom. Zen pecks your cheek affectionately, yawning soon after.

 

 You hum in acknowledgement, eyeing his bedhead and slightly flushed face from having only just woken up as he enters the bathroom. How can he manage to look so beautiful so effortlessly? Jealousy, unwelcome as it is, claws at the back of your throat. Jealousy and a little bit of guilt. You feel sorry for him to have someone like you following him around. You imagine that everyone who sees the two of you does as well.  _ Why him, _ they likely wonder,  _ why the ugly one? He doesn't deserve Zen. _ You couldn't agree more.

 

 “Hey, are you okay?” You jump at the sound of your boyfriend's voice, having not heard him come back out of the bathroom. Zen is combing his hair, but his eyes are trained onto you. “You look a little pale.”

 

 “I do?” You touch your face, looking to the side. Sure enough, your face is unnaturally cool to the touch; your hands had become clammy as well. “Just… tired, I guess.”

 

 He places the comb onto the nightstand behind you and envelops you from behind with strong arms. You can't help but melt just a bit in his embrace. “Didn't sleep well? Maybe next time I should sing you a lullaby before you sleep.” You can just hear the smile in his voice, playful and teasing.

 

 Unfortunately, right now, you really aren't in the mood. “I'm not sure that would help, honestly.” You laugh a bit weakly, touching one of his arms as a quiet plea to be released. Though you didn't really expect him to know what the gesture meant—maybe he didn't—he complies. Zen circles back around you, letting out a soft hum.

 

 “I see… I'm sorry to hear that it's a problem even my melodious voice can't solve. Why couldn't you sleep, anyway? A nightmare?” Zen runs a hand through his now-tangle-free hair, pulling it into a lazy ponytail with a hair tie he kept around his wrist.

 

 “You could say that.”

 

 “What was it about?”

 

 It takes every ounce of willpower not to say, “me.” You shrug and instead mumble, “Just… scary stuff. Nothing big.”

 

 “Poor thing,” he coos. “Well, since you didn't get enough sleep, I'll be making us breakfast.”

 

 “But you'll be late for work.” As much as you'd appreciate the gesture, you would prefer that he arrive on time to work over getting a free breakfast.

 

 “It's my day off,” Zen laughs, “don't worry.”

 

 You give a quiet “oh,” cheeks heating up a bit. You completely forgot he has today off. “You still don't have to, though… I can make it.”

 

 “No, no—I  _ want _ to. Don't worry about it.” Zen smiles that heart-stopping smile and heads out the bedroom door.

 

 Your eyes follow him as he walks out, realizing soon after that you've got a silly grin on your face. You're so lucky to be around him so much, let alone date him.

 

 It makes hating yourself so much more frustrating, though. No matter how happy you are that Zen is with you, you can't ever fully enjoy it. There's always  _ something _ for your brain to butt in about—you don't deserve him, you're a nuisance to him, etc. You can never just appreciate moments for what they are.

 

 Before you know it, that smile has slipped right off of your face. Today is going to be a long day.

 

\---

 

 Zen suggested that you two watch some movies together, since you barely ever had the time for even one, with his busy schedule. You agreed because there really wasn't much else to do. A few films in, you were both already laying down completely snuggled up together on the couch, arms entangled in an embrace of sorts.

 

 You can't quite focus on the movie. Your attention is elsewhere—more specifically, where Zen’s hands are. To someone else, that sounded like the beginning of a session of Netflix And Chill™. Your thoughts, however, aren't nearly so risqué—they lean more towards wanting to die of embarrassment.

 

 Because the two of you are lying so close together, nothing hides the rolls of fat along your sides that you abhor. This would be so much more comfortable if he wasn't holding you to his chest like this… Or if you two weren't lying down together… Or if you just weren't here at all. Zen would surely be most comfortable when not in your presence.

 

 Your boyfriend's arms shift around you slightly, and the position is only getting worse. You bite your lip, narrowly avoiding snapping at him to move away.

 

 “Is there something wrong?” His chest rumbles against your back, and you can just feel those ruby red eyes staring, waiting for a response. You only tense up. “You're being strangely quiet today. Do you feel sick?”

 

 It takes a great amount of effort to force yourself to speak. “Ah, no, I just… Um, I was just dozing off, I guess.”

 

 “Really? It's only about six o'clock, though.” He moves an arm away from you, presumably to check the time. You're relieved beyond words, until he places it right back where it had been before. “Oh, that's right—you didn't get much sleep last night, right?” You nodded silently. “If you want, you could go to bed now.”

 

 “I—I don't really want to sleep right now, actually,” you reply somewhat quickly. “After all, I don't want to leave you alone. You wanted to watch movies together.”

 

 “That's not so fun knowing you're so tired.” Zen laughs softly, patting your side. You tense up again. He seems to notice this time. “You're… sure you aren't sick or anything?”

 

 “No, no, I'm _ fine _ , honestly I am.” You turn your head to flash him a quick, forced smile. Zen suddenly doesn't seem so convinced.

 

 “...Is something bothering you?” Concern laces his voice. You don't respond. After a long pause, he continues, “Do you want to talk about it?”

 

 Suddenly, you really  _ aren't _ feeling too great. Your pulse starts to pick up in the fear of the discussion that could very well be coming next. Your palms start sweating and your throat starts drying and you quickly realize that no, you do not want to talk about it, you'd like to just go to bed early and forget about this—forget about how much you hate yourself and this situation you've accidentally flung yourself into. Zen doesn't need this kind of stress. He doesn't need to hear about your self-loathing right now, or ever, for that matter. You suppose you'll live with this until death or something, which you can only hope will come shortly.

 

 Zen shifts again, retracting his arms from you and sitting up as best he can without moving you. He only manages to sort of get stuck hovering above you, arm propping him up. You take that as a sign to sit up as well, so that's just what you do, albeit shakily and reluctantly. He reaches for the remote and turns off the TV.

 

 Now that the two of you are sitting side-by-side with no distractions… You're just more nervous than ever. Zen is waiting patiently for you to open up, but it's not that easy—you can't just spill out years upon years’ worth of angst right here and now. As much as you appreciate his efforts, you believe they're currently in vain.

 

 Realizing that you're just not going to be the one to talk first, Zen clears his throat. “You know, you don't  _ have _ to talk about what's bothering you…” You glance at him. He's looking off to the side, seemingly searching for the right words. “But you know I love you, right?” The two of you make eye contact for a brief moment; you panic and break it. “If it's causing you to act this way, it has to be something big. And even if you can't tell me, well—I'm still here to support you however I can.”

 

 Those words bring you more guilt than anything, somehow. You're making a big deal over nothing. It didn't need to be like this, but your useless self couldn't manage to just act for a  _ day _ like things were okay.

 

 Regardless, you know you have to respond somehow. So you try for a smile, hoping it looks even kind of decent. You know it doesn't. “...Thank you, Zen. I really appreciate it. It's just…” You bite your lip, shaking your head. “It's nothing. I promise.”

 

 Zen looks just a little sad, seeing that you won't confide in him. Your chest tightens as he nods and mumbles an “okay.” In no way did it need to come to this, you repeat to yourself, and frustration starts to build in you. This is so stupid. Why are you so stupid?

 

 “For real, there's nothing wrong. I didn't mean to make you worry—haha, sometimes it's like that's all I'm good for!” A lump starts to form in your throat while you try harder to force a smile, and you realize you can't stop the words from slipping out of your mouth. “Honestly, I don't know how you deal with me. Or  _ why _ , for that matter. I don't exactly have a lot of redeeming qualities, you know? Like, none at all!” Your voice starts to break as the anger in your tone begins leaking out. You don't need to say this any of this—why can't you just stop?

 

 “What…? What are you talking about? Please don't say all of that about yourself,” Zen replies hastily, trying to figure out how to handle the situation. “I just told you I love you.”

 

 “But that's a lie, isn't it?” You snap at him, tears burning your eyes and blurring your vision as your neck swivels around to look at him. He's taken aback at the sight of your watery eyes and furrowed brow, or maybe he's just deterred by how disgusting you look. “You couldn't actually like someone like this—someone who's ugly and overweight and is _ practically barking at you right now _ —I know you're lying.”

 

 “That's not true, though!” Zen grabs your shoulders, shaking you gently. “None of that is. You're not ugly at all, I must've told you a  _ thousand _ times how handsome you are. Do you really mean to tell me you didn't believe me even once?” He looks you right in the eye, his expression softening. You force your gaze to the side, several tears already spilling over. “Is that really what you think of yourself…?”

 

 You go silent, bringing a sleeve up to wipe your nose pitifully. Zen raises a hand and caresses your cheek.

 

 “...I don't know why you believe any of those terrible things about yourself. Has someone been harassing you?”

 

 “ _ No _ ,” you reply, “I've always thought like this. Please don't ask why.”

 

 “But it just—it doesn't make  _ sense _ .” You see from the corner of your eye that Zen is frowning again. “You're an incredible person. I love everything about you— _ including _ your looks. Don't you remember how hard I had to control myself when we only knew each other through the chatroom?” He looks somewhat embarrassed as he says this. “That wasn't because you were unattractive, you know.”

 

 Well… whether he's only trying to make you feel better or not, you find yourself at least  _ wanting _ to believe him. You meet his gaze and he smiles, gently wiping away your tears.

 

 “...I'm sorry. For acting that way.”

 

 “It's alright. I can tell you were really struggling with this.”

 

 “That isn't an excuse for snapping at you, though…” You sniffle. “I just… Being your boyfriend feels so amazing. I love you so much, and it's amazing that you're with me, but… I feel like I don't deserve it. I'm sure your fans hate seeing me with you too…” You sigh. “There are so many people out there that are more handsome or cuter or whatever than me. I don't see why you've decided to choose me over them.”

 

 “Haven't I told you already?” Zen smiles that brilliant smile of his, and you thought your heart skipped a beat. “It's because I love _ you _ . Not them.”

 

 The two of you look at each other for a long moment before you wrap your arms around him. He returns the embrace soon after, holding you close.

 

 “...Thank you, Zen. I'm really sorry.”

 

 “There's nothing to apologize for,” he replies with a lighthearted laugh. “Would it… be okay if I tried to help you? With this, I mean. I want you to feel like the world. That's what you mean to me, after all.”

 

 You can't suppress the laugh that results. So ridiculous. “I'm not sure how well that'll work… I've been like this for as long as I can remember. But… I'd really like it if you were there to support me when I feel like this, like you offered before.”

  
 “Well, then,” Zen responded, “that's just what I'll do.” 


End file.
